


Fun Times

by Oparu (USSJellyfish)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Section 31 (Star Trek), adventures in space spy games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/USSJellyfish/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: After joining Section 31, Philippa asks Michael and Tilly to join her on a mission to steal intel from one of Osyraa's bases. When Philippa's hurt and the mission starts to go wrong, she knows she brought the right back up.There's no one else she'd want along.
Relationships: Michael Burnham & Mirror Philippa Georgiou, Michael Burnham & Sylvia Tilly, Mirror Philippa Georgiou & Sylvia Tilly
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52
Collections: Star Trek Holidays 2020





	Fun Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kira_katrine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kira_katrine/gifts).



> I'm a total sucker for Philippa embracing (as much as she can) a little bit of her vulnerability and trusting Michael and Tilly. I wrote this after seeing Terra Firma pt 1 but without seeing part 2 so I have a vague idea that Philippa will be changed and come back, but I'm making things up. 
> 
> Hopefully that's all right!
> 
> Many many thanks to hereforthedrama. You are so helpful!

"You missed her." Tilly looks at her hands, waiting for Georgiou's shuttle to arrive. "It's okay to say you missed her."

Michael looks up at the ceiling, then smiles. "I did."

"I did too."

"Yeah?"

Tilly follows Michael's eyes up towards the ceiling and together they look at nothing before they look at each other. "She reminds me of my mom, not like, my mom's not homicidal or anything."

"Of course not."

"My mom never really paid attention to me. She'd find my faults, and tell me when I was wrong, which was, like all the time according to her."

"Georgiou pays almost too much attention."

"And she's really mean, well, was really mean, she's nicer now."

Michael smiles at that, trying to imagine Philippa admitting she's become kinder. "Don't tell her that."

"I won't, I'd never, but, when she's mean to me, at least she's mean to me about the things that are actually happening in my life. She's not still annoyed that I wasn't good enough in high school, she thinks I'm not good enough now, except--"

"She stopped saying that."

"Yeah, and I'd gotten so used to her being mean to me all the time, but then the last time we saw her she was nice."

"It's weird isn't it?"

"Yeah, super weird, but I like it. I'm glad she didn't die horribly by having her atoms pulled apart."

Chuckling, Michael picks up her bag of equipment. "Me too."

"Do you get what I'm trying to say though? I'm not saying it right, but, I guess she's kind of the closest thing I have to a mom, and and in some ways she's actually better than my mom."

"You feel like you made her proud."

Tilly looks at her, then nods, smiling a little.. "I do, and that's stupid, right? She's not my mom, she's your mom except not really--"

Michael pats her shoulder. "She's my mom, and I'm sure she doesn't mind being your mildly evil step-mother."

"Can I tell her that?"

"She might think it's funny. Maybe wait until after the mission, we'll get drinks."

"Can we go to the fancy bar on the rainforest ship? I keep hearing about it and I haven't made time to go."

"And Georgiou makes you think of bars?"

"Sometimes she makes me want to drink."

"Just like your mother?"

"Oh my god, yes." 

Georgiou's voice cuts them off on comms before they can start laughing. "Burnham, Tilly, prepare to transport."

* * *

An hour later, they're falling out of the sky. Maybe Philippa's contact betrayed them, maybe the Emerald Chain figured out what Section 31 was trying to do. Maybe it was just a dangerous mission and they got unlucky. 

"I can't get the engines back online," Michael calls from the rear of the shuttle. The smell of scorched metal fills the cabin, mixed with burning wiring. The only reason any of them can breathe is because smoke's billowing out through the holes in the hull faster than it can fill the cabin. 

"Switch to shields, if you can get those online-"

"We might be able to soften the crash--" she finishes with Philippa. "Whatever hit us did some serious damage." 

"Don't worry about the what, worry about landing, if we're alive after, then we'll worry about what." 

"We're still calling it a landing?" Tilly asks, hands buried in the wall. "Try the shields now."

Philippa touches the controls once, then hits the panel. Maybe that scares the shields on, but they're on. "We have shields." 

"Can you change their orientation, flatten them out as much as possible so they slow us down?"

Philippa hits the panel again, then her hands fly over the controls. "I'll try, we need more power."

Tilly connects what remains of their power to the inertial dampeners and the shields. "More power, got it. Maxing out the inertial dampeners." 

"Get to the back of the shuttle," Philippa yells at them both, her voice as sharp as the smoke. "Get braced."

Get away from the cockpit and the transparisteel. Get back to the sturdiest part of the ship. They only have half a moment, the shields slow them down, maybe Philippa found water because there's a flash of light, then it's black.

Unconsciousness is peaceful. Tempting. Michael clings to it for a moment, then icy water envelops her. Pulling her head to the surface, she gasps into the shuttle. There's a little air left, but it's filling with water fast. 

"Tilly? Philippa?"

"Here," Tilly mutters, spitting water. "Where's Georgiou?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Not really. You?"

Michael shakes her head, trying to see Philippa in the weak red emergency lighting. "Grab anything you can, see if the hatch will still open. I'll get her." Swimming through the flotsam that was once their shuttle, she ducks under, opening her eyes in the stinging water. Philippa would be near the pilot's seat, but she's wearing black in the black water and Michael flails out with her hands, feeling for her. She can't be gone.

She catches leather, finally, and tugs, pulling Philippa's unconscious body up from the sinking shuttle. She's heavy and Michael's lungs burn. She kicks, and Tilly grabs one of Philippa's arms. They break the silver-black surface, Tilly has the hatch open and together, they slip into the sea. 

The shuttle sinks beneath them, her lights disappearing into the unknown sea far beneath their feet. 

"What do we do?" Tilly treads water, her hair flat against her head. "Where's the shore?"

Michael shifts Philippa's weight, getting her head steady on her own shoulder. There's blood in her hair, and her forehead has an ugly red mark, but her heartbeat is steady. "Try your badge."

The holopadd lights the sea, glowing blue in the empty darkness. Tilly smiles. "Okay, that's good, really good. The water gets shallower this way, just over six hundred meters to shore. Which is good because it's really cold."

"Swimming will keep you warm." 

"I hated swimming at the academy. Remember when they made you jump out of a shuttle in the bay at night?"

"It was just like this." Michael tries to find a stride, easy, take her time. Philippa's heavy, but the water's salty enough that it's not difficult to float. Small miracle. 

"Philippa, can you hear me?" She whispers. "We're swimming to shore. It's not far, and I've got you. If you woke up, it would be easier, but we've got you."

"She'd hate that." Tilly mutters. Then she pauses, treading water again for a moment. "Maybe not as much."

"Her letters have been nice."

"I wrote her too."

"You did?" 

Tilly turns onto her back, kicking through the sea as the triple moons light the darkness. "I felt like an idiot the first time. I thought she could just delete it or tell me to fuck off, but she wrote back."

"And?"

"She was a little nice." 

"I wasn't," Philippa groans into Michael's ear. "I wasn't trying to be nice."

"Maybe it's just happening." Michael teases "Anything broken?"

Philippa drifts, her eyes closing again.

"Is she awake?"

"She was for a moment."

Tilly pauses, swimming closer. "I can try to get a scan while we're swimming."

"We can't do anything until we're on shore anyway." Michael relaxes her arm for a moment, then secures her hold on Philippa again. "She'll be okay."

"I don't think I got a med kit, I think it's an engineering kit and we might be able to do something, but I really should have gotten the medkit I just didn't--"

"Tilly, it's okay."

"It's not."

"It'll be more okay when we're on land." 

They swim silently, following the silver light of the moons ahead. "I'd been thinking I needed to keep up my physical fitness." 

"Fit more training into your busy schedule?" Tilly asks, then pauses, laughing in relief. "I touched a rock. There's rocks."

Shifting her feet down, Michael can't touch the bottom yet, but a few more kicks and she finds the rocks. Dragging Philippa in is easier when Tilly takes one of her arms. The shore above them is mostly dark rocks, and craggy cliffs. The only light is the moons, so they must still be far from the settlements on this planet.

In the shallows, Tilly scans Philippa with her badge while her head rests in Michael's lap.

"Concussion, a couple of bruised ribs on the right. Lungs are clear. She's going to have a horrible headache."

"Now you learn to be blunt," Philippa says, blinking without committing to opening her eyes. Her voice catches, tight in her throat. "And you're right."

"You have bruised ribs," Michael cautions, touching her shoulder. "Breathe slowly."

Wincing, Philippa opens her eyes. "I feel them."

"Good, take it easy."

Philippa sits up anyway, grabbing Michael and Tilly's hands. She hisses, then moans in pain but she pushes through. "We have to get out of the water, get dry, warmed up. Your lips are blue."

Michael hasn't been paying any attention to her numb feet and hands. "I have my phaser."

"So do I." Philippa holds onto her shoulder, letting them lead her up the rocky beach.

"I'll get rocks, you sit." Tilly scans the rocks around them, gathering a pile of sturdy ones that will hold the heat of a phaser. She shoots them, and they glow red, bleeding heat in a circle around them. It doesn't cast light like a fire, but they won't be noticed. Their shelter is hardly anything. It's not quite a cave, more like a notch in the cliff, but they're out of the wind.

Michael removes her own heavy, sodden leather coat first and hangs it on the rocks to dry. Tilly shrugs out of hers, lying it against some roots. Together they look at Philippa, who hasn't moved from the rock wall. She has one hand on the rock for support., but she's not demanding they kill her, so she must be in a tolerable amount of pain. For her, that could be anything. 

"We need to get your coat off."

Philippa nods once, then shuts her eyes. She holds out an arm and together Michael and Tilly slide the wet leather from her skin. Even with them being as gentle as possible, Philippa bites her lip, clenching her jaw before they even get to her elbow. 

Tilly winces sympathetically. "Sorry."

"Did you throw me against that control panel?"

"It's more like a 'sorry it hurts' than a 'sorry I did it' kind of thing," Tilly corrects, smiling a little. "You're doing great, we'd probably both be crying if it was us." 

"Oh I would," Michael teases, moving behind Philippa to take her other arm. "Try to keep still."

Philippa tilts her head and smiles a little. "I know how this works." 

"You've cracked ribs before?"

"Yes." Philippa sighs, but that makes her moan, and that's sharp. "My command training program was rigorous."

Tilly circles around to the other side and together they ease Philippa's coat all the way off. "If you live, right?" 

"Right."

Tilly takes the soaked leather and drapes it up over the rocks. She digs through it, pulling out knives from hidden pockets and setting them to dry. "Keep your back straight."

Finally, Philippa glares at her and the worry in her stomach calms a little. Death glares are a good sign. "Don't fuss, Michael."

"I'm not fussing."

Philippa looks at Tilly, very carefully resting her hands on her thighs, her back perfectly straight. She's so still that she's tense. "She's fussing."

"I would prefer to remain neutral about the fussing occurring or not because both of you will kill me."

Michael rolls her eyes. "On the topic of staying alive, is there anything we can eat? Any potable water?"

Philippa shuts her eyes, remaining incredibly still. "Did we get anything out of the shuttle?"

"Three phasers, our commbadges, your knives, and an engineering kit. I couldn't reach the medkit--"

"It's fine--"

"It's not fine--" Tilly insists. "You're hurt, I should have gotten it."

"We can steal a medkit," Philippa says.

"She's fine anyway." Michael pats her shoulder and that makes Philippa wince. 

Looking at Michael, indignant, Philippa smiles. Really smiles. "Did you just hurt me to prove I was wrong?"

"I did."

"There's hope for you yet, Michael."

Tilly watches them, her eyes wide and soft. She's hungry almost, reaching for something. Michael's felt that way, watching people with their families. Tilly's part of their family, she just needs to believe it. 

Tilly holds up a multitool from the engineering kit, grinning. "Okay so, I think I can use the multitool to filter water. So you two can argue, and I'll be right back." 

"That's a good idea," Michale says, sinking to the beach at Philippa's feet. "I thought about hitting you in the ribs."

"I would have been proud of you when I could breathe again." 

"And you'd break my ribs later."

"With the greatest affection." 

Michael shuts her eyes for a moment, leaning her head against Philippa's knee. She takes a breath and it feels like her first full one since the shuttle hit, but she tries to relax. Philippa is tough, bruised ribs will slow her down a little, but she'll be fine. They'll make it through this, steal a shuttle, sneak past the Emerald Chain.

Philippa touches her hair, tentative, but kind. "It's nice to have you and Tilly on the mission."

"We're so thrilled you asked for us," Michael teases. "This is just like old times."

Philippa laughs then hissesin pain . "Don't be funny."

"Sorry."

"I have water!" Tilly announces, returning with the engineering kit case full of water.The programmable matter repair kit makes them a cup, and they pass it around, washing the salt from their lips. 

"Food's going to have to wait until tomorrow."

"We're only a few kilometers from the settlement. If we are where I think we are on the beach, there's a path that way." Philippa moves her hand, not her shoulder.

"Good, because you're not climbing in your condition." 

Passing the water cup around the circle of hot stones, they talk about the Emerald Chain stronghold. Run by one of Osyraa's lieutenants, this one is rumored to contain their records, as much as the Emerald Chain keeps such things. Section 31 has intel that they'll be able to pick up something damaging, and Philippa knows which building they need to break into. 

Now they also need to steal a way off the planet, but that should be easy, especially with the three of them. Planning is the easy part, guiding Philippa down to the beach, helping her lie down on the sand, that's much more difficult. They take her arms, trying to limit the pain of moving, but there's no much they can do. She has to bend, and she nearly passes out again. 

Michael's teachers on Vulcan taught her the pressure points that control bodies, frequently with more than a little condescension, but Michael listened. Touching Phiippa's neck, she presses the nerve bundles to startle her back to consciousness. 

Philippa gasps, stiffening for a moment, and then she stills. Turning her head to Michael, she nods. "Vulcan tricks?"

"We don't have a hypospray. I don't know the nerves for pain."

Michael lies down on one side of Philippa, getting comfortable in the sand.

"Are there any dangerous animals on this planet?" Tilly wonders, looking out at the sea. 

Philippa's hand moves, brushing the back of Michael's. "Some very interesting sea creatures, but they're found in much deeper water."

"Like the water we landed in?" Tilly asks, then she turns to her side. "Actually no, don't tell me. I don't want to no what sea monsters decided not to eat us."

"There are not any terrestrial creatures native to the planet that we need to worry about, but plenty of Emerald Chain here to kill us." 

Philippa lies between Michael and Tilly, hands on her stomach. Michael moves a little closer, so their shoulders touch. They have no blankets so body heat's all they have. Luckily, it's not a frigid night, just cold, and the moons are beautiful. 

"Did you ever go camping?" Tilly asks, her voice soft with nostalgia. "My mom didn't like it. Vacation with her was a five star hotel, but my dad loved being outside. Sometimes we'd sleep on under the stars on strange planets and talk about how to find our way home, just by looking at the stars." 

"We slept outside in training, on the battlefield." Philippa takes a breath, but stops herself, swallowing another wince. There's nothing they can do for her. Can't even block her nerves. "When my Michael was young, we'd watch the stars on the balcony, recalling the tales of the Empire immortalized in the constellations."

"Amanda liked to look at the stars, on Vulcan. My mom, Gabrielle, did, before--" Michael breaks off, blinking a little at the sting of the memory. "After I thought she died, I didn't like it anymore." 

Philippa's hand touches hers, then wraps around her wrist. "They've changed in nine hundred years."

"I didn't think about that," Tilly says, yawning. "I mean, I knew it, I just hadn't taken the time to look. We've been so busy."

Sand rustles and Michael can't help wondering if Philippa's touching Tilly's arm as well. "Saving the galaxy doesn't come with a lot of R&R."

"Any, really," Michael sighs. "Guess this is going to have to count."

"Our first camping trip?" Philippa's voice has a hint of amusement.

Tilly moves, getting comfortable. "Next time I'm going to pack so much more food." 

* * *

The reddish sun has crept a long way over the horizon before any of them wakes up. Michael and Tilly slept better than she did, every time she moved or breathed too deeply, pain shocked her awake, but they were asleep beside her the whole time. Tilly's even curled into her like a cat, and luckily she's on the good side. It's sweet and warm and deeply strange. 

Michael lies protectively next to her, curled on her side, careful not to be too close but their legs touch. When Philippa turns her head, Michael smiles and her eyes are soft. 

"How are your ribs?"

"Fine-" she starts, then stops. Truth is hard but it's better. Easier. "They hurt."

"You kept jolting awake, the beach isn't an imperial bed, is it?" Michael sits up, stretching. She offers her hand to help Philippa up, then smiles a little at Tilly. Tilly's hair covers on Philippa's shoulder in springy curls. 

"It's not even a Starfleet bed." Philippa shifts a little but that hurts, sending fire licking along her side. "You'll have to get her up first. Also, she snores." 

"Tilly?" Michael says gently. "So do you."

"I could kill you for that."

"I know." Michael circles her and taps Tilly's shoulder. "Hey, Tilly, it's morning. We have to go find breakfast."

"There's not going to be coffee, is there?"

"You never know." 

Tilly sits up with a groan, stretching. "I hate sleeping outside never let me do it again."

"Yes, imagine how much worse it would be if you had four fractured ribs." Philippa smirks and watches Tilly's face soften with concern. She cares so much it's hard to even tease her. 

"It's only four?" Michael says, reaching down to help her up.

"Sorry, sorry."

"Tilly, it's fine."

Together they help her up and fire licks through her chest. She doesn't mean to cry out, she even bites her lip but it hurts and they know. Yet neither of them will plot against her or plan her death. 

Still strange, even after these last two years.

* * *

As they walk towards Osyraa's settlement, Michael and Tilly talk just to hear the sound of their own voices. She doesn't really listen. Philippa has never cared that much about who in their crew might be dating each other or how sarcastic Reno and Stamets are. The walk drags, her head pounds, her chest burns when she breathes and since she can't stop doing that it's a tide of pain, shifting up and down as she walks. She can ignore it or lean into it, spend the effort trying to ignore for the dull ache in her head. The concussion wasn't severe but her reactions will be slow. She'll be off in a fight and she'll need to protect her ribs. 

This won't be easy, and it'll be less fun. 

Philippa touches her phaser as they stop on the treeless ridge, looking over the settlement below them. It's another one of those dreadful salvage yards, because this future doesn't make anything, they feed on the scraps of the past. 

"They used the hull of Romulan ship for most of their settlement. Here, in the wing is where we'll find the records of Osyraa's logistics and ship movements, perhaps even proof that they're running of dilithium."

"How well guarded is it?" Tilly asks from her elbow. "We should probably not get into a fight while you're injured."

"I try to stay out of fights all the time."

"Not very well," Philippa teases Michael, calling up the information on her holobadge. "We think they have their guards on a rotation in groups of three, moving in this pattern, but this data might be old, Osyraa could have increased her security after her run-ins with Starfleet." 

Michael looks at the settlement, always so protective. "Tilly and I could scout it out, you could go shopping for a medkit and chose what ship we're going to want to steal to get out of here. I assume you brought enough dilithium?" 

Nodding, Philippa taps the leather bracelet on her arm. "In here, it's enough to get us home. I have gemstones to trade." She reaches up but stops, gasping, when pain lances through her. Don't lift her arms. "Michael, take off my earrings." 

"Got it." Michael's gentle fingers ease off the earrings and she whistles at the stones. "These are definitely worth a medkit or twelve."

Tilly looks at them for a moment, rolling the stones in her fingers. "These are expensive."

"I have an eye for jewelry." She takes the stones back and slips them into one of the many pockets in her coat. "Fine, I will look for the medkit and a ship we can steal, you two break into the library and find the data. Do you know what you're looking for? We think they're using Andorian data storage technology but it's possibly Bajoran."

Tilly frowns, opening her holopadd up again. "I'm not that familiar with Bajoran technology, but there's the picture, I can remember that. We've got it."

"Stay out of trouble."

Philippa smirks. She'd shrug if it wouldn't be excruciating. "Of course, I'm just doing a little shopping."

Trading for a medkit without admitting she's injured is annoying. She can hold herself up enough to hide the ribs, but the bruise on her forehead must be bright by now. She can admit to losing a fight. 

Negotiating with idiots is always a chore, and they don't have medical supplies to trade with her. The Emerald Chain obviously doesn't care about healing their people. Michael and Tilly might argue this is a better universe, but so much of it reminds her of her former home. They let people suffer there, because injuries are a weakness. Here it seems similar. Frustrated with the fruitless shopping and her inability to find even painkillers, she decides to steal the nicest shuttle. 

Even though she has gems enough to pay for a ship, it's so much more fun to steal one. Pretending to be a new slave is easy enough. Keep her eyes down, pretend she lives to serve, and then she's in. No one pays much attention to a dirty human who keeps her head down. Sitting on the floor, she takes her time convincing the control panel to bend to her will, but at least Michael and Tilly aren't here to fuss about her. After she's programmed the shuttle to respond to her remote commands, she leans against the wall. Without their eyes on her, Philippa peels open her jumpsuit to check the bruises on her chest. 

There might be internal injuries under there, judging by the hematoma. No wonder the pain when she breathes is increasing. Next time, she's sewing neural blockers into her coat, just in case. Satisfied that they have a way home, she zips up her jumpsuit and pulls her coat back on, controlling her breathing so she can move through the pain. 

Time to collect the children. 

They're remarkably easy to find. Just follow the sound of phaser fire. Michael's pinned down, and Tilly's almost out but there's easily ten Orions surrounding them. 

How fun. 

Philippa circles them, shooting one, then another, careful to change her position, letting the adrenaline numb her ribs. She's safer if she stays at a distance, doesn't get her hands dirty, and she tries, she really does, it's just that Tilly's not good hand to hand and there are three Orions and she can't shoot all of them fast enough. 

Michael's there a moment later, fighting back to back with her, smooth and fast. They'll have to start working out with Tilly when they return to Discovery, develop her skills.

The blow that hits isn't a surprise. Philippa sees it coming, feels the shift in the air, but the Orion will either hit her or Michael and she just can't let Michael hurt. 

At least, that's what she tells herself in the split second she has to think. The Orion's heavy blow falls hard enough for her cracked ribs to separate, and that flash of pain whites out her vision. She goes down, knees hitting the cool dirt as Michael kills the Orion above her. Tilly phasers the last two and it doesn't matter that she's spitting blood onto the dirt. They're getting out of here and Culber will fix it. 

"Philippa!" 

Protesting she's fine is not going to happen this time. She can't stand on her own, and the fire in her side is a vivid bloom of agony, like lava spilling out over her bones. Her breath catches, and she can't fill her lungs. Philippa manages not to scream, but Michael can read her. 

"Now your ribs are broken."

"How are her lungs?"

"We have to get her out of here, what ship did you take?"

Pressing the remote activator into Tilly's hand, Philippa leans hard on Michael. Standing makes her head spin and her chest won't fill on the right. Collapsed lung. Internal bleeding. How many hours is it back to Discovery? Three? Less if they can coax more out of the Andorian shuttle that she's liberated. 

"Andorian." Speaking was not a good choice, she starts to cough and there's more blood in her mouth, catching in her throat. She nearly chokes, fighting the urge to vomit and the fresh agony of her ribs pulling apart. 

"I'll clear the field of Osyraa's men. " Michael hands her to Tilly, letting Philippa catch Tilly's shoulder.

"Can you breathe?"

Philippa nods, leaning down to spit more blood. She'll cough up more. She's seen this kill people, filling their chests with blood instead of air, even put down her own soldiers rather than watch them drown. "You might--"

"Need to clear the pneumothorax before it compromises your good lung without a medkit or painkillers because you won't be able to breathe otherwise," Tilly finishes. "Great, that sounds great. Let's do that in the shuttle, okay?" 

Philippa smiles as Tilly flies the shuttle in. She might be a kitten, but she's a very smart one. Tilly lands the shuttle between the stalls of salvaged goods. She drags Philippa closer, trying to keep her up until Michael comes to share her weight. Her feet still work, but her legs are heavy. They drag her more than she walks into the shuttle. It was a luxurious craft once, but she's not the first person to bleed onto the deck.

Michael lays her flat on the deck and Tilly runs to pilot them up off the planet, freeing Michael to fuss. 

She touches her cheek, leaning in. "You're bleeding into your chest."

Nodding, Philippa shuts her eyes. The pain in her chest seethes, like molten metal. "Yes, I am."

"Just hang on, I think Tilly and I can fix it until we get you back to _Discovery_." Michael does something loud, moving around the shuttle, and Philippa forces her eyes open. 

"We need something sharp enough to cut into her pleural cavity and something like a straw to let the air out." Tilly helps Michael search the mess of tools on the floor of the shuttle. "Discovery is less than three hours away, so if we can keep her from losing too much blood or suffocating--" Tilly trails off, then smiles to calm Michael. "She'll be fine."

Michael grabs her hand, wrapping warm fingers around her own. "This is going to hurt."

She can't help joking. "Really?"

Michael touches her shoulder. "Excruciatingly." 

So much goes unsaid. Philippa's never been good at baring her soul, but she'll put herself in their hands, again and again. 

"You didn't need to get in the way," Michael says, tearing a welder apart for a thin metal tube. "I could have taken the hit."

Shaking her head, Philippa pats her arm. "No, you've had enough pain." 

"Philippa--"

"I couldn't."

"Watching you suffer-" Michael breaks off, her voice tight and soft. "It's not better," she finishes. "I can take a hit."

"I know." Philippa starts to sigh but has to bite back a cry instead. Don't breathe, don't laugh, don't cry: all of it hurts with that bright agonizer-grade pain. "I know you're strong, I couldn't--"

"Were you thinking of your Michael?"

Philippa touches her cheek, stroking her skin. "You're my Michael."

"I am?"

"As much as she is."

"Sounds like you love me." Michael smiles, teasing a little, and Philippa shuts her eyes. 

"Maybe I do."

"You don't have to protect me." Talking's harder with every breath, like she's drowning. She is, isn't she? 

That Philippa smiles at. "I like to."

"And you call everyone else stupid and impulsive." Michael leans closer, then covers her hand. "I'm going to open your shirt."

Gritting her teeth, Philippa keeps her back straight against the deck as Michael opens the zipper, exposing her bruised, bloody skin. "You'll have to find me something to bite down on." She squeezes Michael's fingers. She'll writhe under the knife, make things worse if they don't hold her still. "One of you will need to hold me down." 

"Yeah--" It takes a moment for that request to sink in. Michael's expression tightens, and tears reach her eyes. "You should have let me take the hit."

"And exchange places? Never."

Michael wipes at her eyes, then looks away. "It wouldn't have hurt me as much, Philippa."

She's not comfortable being looked after, and Philippa understands that part of her completely. She wouldn't know how to feel if Michael had been injured protecting her. 

Fabric tears and Tilly hands over a strip of leather from her coat. Michael holds the leather strip, pausing, worrying. She knows what she has to do, but she hesitates. She's never comfortable with suffering. She would have thought that a weakness for most of her life, but now she knows that caring is strength beyond what most would expect.

Tilly touches her shoulder, trying to hand her the knife. "Michael, should you do this? I think you should do this."

Shaking her head, Michael wraps her fingers around Philippa's bare shoulder. "If I cut you have to hold her down."

"Fuck," Tilly whispers, then her face hardens. She gets stronger by the day. "Okay, when you're ready, I'll cut."

The knife remains in Tilly's reluctant hands, and Michael's eyes soften. She places the strip of leather into Philippa's mouth, then rests her hands on Philippa's shoulders, using her weight to hold her down. "I've got you."

Philippa nods, setting her teeth into the leather. They're too young to understand how pain lives, how to sink into it. She can't speak, and Michael can't argue with her any more. This has to be done, and she has no fear of them, or the pain, yet it still frightens them. Perhaps it's harder to watch. If her position had been reversed, if her hands held Michael down, she'd be just as destroyed.

Tilly's soft fingers touch the bare skin of her chest, aiming between her ribs. She pulls the knife back, readying the blow, and pauses, her eyes meeting Philippa's. She's not comfortable being the cause of agony, but she knows how to do the right thing. Philippa can't speak, but she nods, shutting her eyes to spare Tilly. Maybe that little surrender will let Tilly know she's trusted. The knife punctures her side; a sharp, new, flash of white that deafens her old agony. She bites down, screaming into the leather and Michael's shoulder. She shuts her eyes, tears and sweat stinging as she struggles against the heavy warmth of Michael's body. Tilly stops cutting but the pain remains, sizzling her nerves.

She gasps, fighting for breath, battling the darkness at the edges of her vision. Tilly's fingers touch the wound, then Tilly shoves a tube into her chest but she fights the darkness clawing at her resolve. Straining against Michael, she surrenders. She's given up very little in her life: always struggling, fighting, finding a way up. For a moment, she floats, but she remains. She belongs with them. She's home with them.

Air gurgles out of her chest, and then she can breathe. The weight's gone, and it's like the weight of the shuttle itself has risen off her lungs, but her ribs still sing with agony. 

"We've got you," Michael says, whispering it into her ear like a prayer. 

That's how they are here. They fight together, they hold on. She'll meet the other her years from now, not today. Decades from now they can compare notes.

"Hey," Michael says, gently touching her face as she pulls the leather out of her mouth. "Stay with us." 

Philippa licks her dry, bloody lips. "Sorry."

"Did she just apologize?" Tilly asks, grinning a little. "You're getting soft."

"I am--" Philippa lets her protest die. She's grown, her feelings spilling over the hard golden edges she built in her youth. "I am."

Tilly tears more of the lining out of her coat, packing it against the wound to hold the tube in place. "Culber's going to be pissed."

Michael shakes her head, wiping tears from her eyes. "He'll be proud." 

Tilly rubs Philippa's blood off her hands. They sit above her, smiling down, their worried faces soft and relieved as Philippa's breathing calms.

She coughs, wincing, then swallows more blood. Breathing's getting easier, and her head's spinning less. "You did well, Number One."

"I didn't kill you."

Philippa lets her head turn towards Tilly, forcing her eyes to focus. "I didn't think you would." 

"Really?"

"Really."

Michael smiles, really smiles, that smile where it lights her face. "And we got the intelligence."

Philippa squeezes her fingers. "I knew we would. You two are the best."

Tilly shakes her head, and her hair tickles when she leans over her. "We crashed into an alien ocean and barely got off the planet alive."

"Which is better than the last three teams Section 31 has sent."

"Seriously?" Tilly nearly jumps to her feet in surprise. "The last three teams died?"

"And you asked for us?" Michael adds, laughing.

"Of course I did. I knew you could do it."

* * *

"I'm delighted to say your second surgery was much better than the first," Dr. Culber says over her head. She'd know his smug voice anywhere and the lights that sting her eyes are Discovery's sickbay. "But, considering the circumstances of the first, Tilly did well. So did you, considering you're nearly a thousand years old."

"But I look great," Philippa says, licking dry lips and taking stock of her body. Nothing hurts, though her limbs have that fuzzy post-neuroblocker heaviness. "Barely over seven hundred." 

Tilly touches her hand, her fingers warm and soft. "Michael's asleep. She didn't want to leave so I promised I'd stay because she does need sleep. I'll get her coffee and wake her up and she'll be right here. I know she wants to see you." 

No one needed to stay with her, but it's hard not to appreciate how sentimental they are. "Tilly--"

"Oh I think you could pass for six hundred, easily. You have great hair."

Philippa rolls to her side, smiling. "Number One--"

Smiling down, Tilly blinks back tears. "No, don't be nice to me, I don't think I'm ready for that. Just tell me I'm a little kitten or something and send me away."

"You've a very useful kitten."

She leans down, half hugging her on the bed. Philippa reaches up, pleasantly surprised when it's not difficult to hug her back. Her body's a little stiff, slow, but it moves.

Tilly whispers, "I'm so glad you're okay." 

"Of course I am. I had a great team."

"And a very good doctor," Culber adds. "Go, Tilly, go get Michael so Philippa can rest. I'm getting really good at putting you back together, but I'd rather not need to for awhile." 

Philippa blinks, then takes a breath and it doesn't hurt. She's barely even sore, just a disconnected, a little lightheaded. "I'll try to keep myself intact"

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that. I have other people who need my brilliance you know." He checks her monitors, then touches her shoulder and nods. "Luckily for you, I do great work." 

Rolling her eyes, she drifts, listening to the quiet of sickbay. She used to loathe every vulnerable second of being here; now it's peaceful. This is a safe place. 

"I had to threaten her to get her out," Culber says from his desk desk. "And then Michael would only go if Tilly got to stay, so it seems you have two now."

He doesn't say daughters. He doesn't need to.

Michael, her all too worried Michael, hurries in, still in her pajamas, carrying something on a tray. "You're awake."

"Only slightly."

Smiling down at her, Michael's eyes shine with warmth. "You look better."

Philippa pushes up off the bed, testing her arms as she sits up. "Tilly says I look barely over six hundred."

Chuckling, Michael takes a step closer, touching her shoulder as if she's worried she'll be unsteady. "I could see that, actually."

Covering her hand with hers, Philippa tugs her closer. She's still not sure how to hug someone, it's such a strange, vulnerable, intimate act, but it's something she's growing tolerate. Maybe she even enjoys the way Michael's arms wrap around her. 

Michael's hands pat her back. "I'm proud of you."

"Because I'm an excellent operative for the Federation?" Philippa teases, leaning into Michael.

Laughing into her hair, Michael nods, refusing to let go. "That's it."

"Good." She releases her reluctantly, still holding her arms. "It's important to be recognized for my skills." 

"I brought you food."

Culber clears his throat from behind the desk. "You're not even going to ask me before you eat in sickbay?"

"Eating's an important part of recovery, Doctor."

"Don't get it on the biobed." 

Philippa chuckles, patting the bed next to her. "What did you bring?"

"Chili crab and those peanut pancakes from Palau Langkwai." 

"One of those is breakfast."

"It's not really morning."

"It's the middle of the night," Culber says, making the rounds of sickbay. "And I'll take a pancake." 

Michael hands one over, smiling. "Here, thanks for putting up with us." 

"All part of the service." Culber heads into the lab, checking on something else. 

"I don't know when he sleeps," Michael whispers. 

Philippa picks up an apam balik. Funny how even across universes, some things are the same. It smells like sugar and peanuts, and oddly enough, like home. "When I was a child, I bought them from a street vendor." 

Michael's arm rests around her back, keeping her stable. "When I visited Pulau Langkawi with the other you, we got them in the morning."

"I didn't know you still had people selling anything."

"We don't--" Michael rolls her eyes a little. It's not really about money, some people like cooking." 

She takes a bite, sighing happily. The replicator isn't as good as her chef, but she's grateful to be here, now, in this soft universe with fake pancakes. Michael even brought chopsticks for the chili crab. She didn't realize she was hungry until she started eating. Finishing her pancake quickly, she digs into the crab. How long has it been since she ate anything? More than a day? Must be why she's attacking the food. 

Culber wanders by again, this time handing some water to Michael. "When you're done inhaling your food, stay hydrated."

Michael answers for her because her mouth is full. "Yes, Doctor." 

Philippa swallows, then holds out a piece of chili crab towards Michael. "Try this."

"I've had it before."

"Good, then have some."

"You don't want to eat it all?"

"I do, but you--" She insists and Michael takes a bite from her chopsticks. 

Smiling as she chews, Michael raises her eyebrows and breathes in. "I always forget how hot this is."

"It's good for you."

Michael wipes her mouth and smiles. "I was trying to pick something good for you."

"You are good for me, you and Tilly."

"Because we kept you alive?"

Philippa holds up another bite of crab and smiles. "I appreciate that part."

Michael takes another bite and pauses, chewing. She stares into Philippa's eyes, her expression softening. "That was a lot."

She can't resist teasing. "Hadn't held anyone down before?"

"Not like that." She takes a breath, then looks away, eyes still soft, almost liquid. 

Philippa sets down her chopsticks and touches Michael's shoulder. "I don't know if I would have let anyone else do that."

Michael turns back, earnest again. "I think it would help you if you trusted more people. Not everyone, but expanding beyond Tilly and I is a start."

Philippa touches the place on her side where Tilly cut, and it's barely sore. Still a little tingly, but newly repaired flesh is always odd for a day or so. "You and Tilly did a great job. You saved my life."

Tilting her head, Michael looks at her with surprise. "You weren't in any real danger."

Culber takes the empty tray from Michael's lap and glares at them both a little, hand on his hip. "Yes, you were. You had pieces of rib in your lung and I had to replace more than a liter of blood."

"And I'm fine.""Thank to Michael and Tilly, definitely not your own sense of self-preservation." He looks at them both then nods. "Go home, get out of my sickbay, try not to get stabbed or shot or beaten in the next few days. I do need to treat other patients. I can't be your personal physician."

"I was just starting to like you," Philippa teases. 

Michael slides off the bed and hovers next to it. Philippa steps down and her feet are steady. She could do without walking through the ship in these ridiculous shapeless blue sickbay pajamas, but it's not the worst thing she's had to wear. 

And she's alive to wear them. 

"Don't pick out a place for him in your tomb yet."

"Don't you think he's earned it?"

Michael laughs, then touches her arm again. "It would be nice to not worry about burying you any time soon."

"Is that why you keep saving me?"

"I haven't built a pyramid yet," Michael teases, following her down the quiet corridor. 

"Wrong empire."

Shaking her head, Michael sighs in mock defeat. "See that's why I'm going to need a long time to research everything. Have to get it right. Years and years from now, please."

"I'll do my best." They pause in front of her guest quarters. In her bare feet, Michael's eyes are higher than her own. "I might need you and Tilly again, in the interests of delaying my death, of course."

Michael beams at her. "You know where to find us, good night, Philippa."

"Good night," she replies, then watched Michael walk away. This is what gratitude feels like and it's not as unpleasant as she's always believed. How strange.


End file.
